


with a love i seemed to lose

by cynical_optimist



Series: let me count the ways (lolifem) [1]
Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, F/F, Forbidden Romance, Secret dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddie groans. “I don’t want a spouse,” she says. “I want you.”</p><p>-</p><p>day one: secret dating</p>
            </blockquote>





	with a love i seemed to lose

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little early for a lot of the participants but it's already midday here so whatever.
> 
>  Thanks to [Sarah](http://douchenuts.tumblr.com) and [Crystal](http://niuniujiaojiao.tumblr.com/) for editing.
> 
> Title from "How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Browning.

Jaquie knows how to lie.

It’s a skill born of years in court, years of smiling at odd-smelling dignitaries and self-absorbed royalty. The  _ yes-sir-and-how-are-you _ and  _ no-I’m-fine-really _ ‘s come naturally to her tongue, demure nods and hidden smiles a language she’s known for years. Secrets line the roof of her mouth, and she has never let one slip out.

Oddly enough, she has never been able to lie to Freddie. She has never wanted to.

“Tell me,” whispers Freddie once, in the quiet hallway between their separate duties, one of the few moments they can steal together, hidden away from politics and vows and deadlines, “Do you love me?”

“Of course,” answers Jaquie—a truth.

The frown doesn’t disappear with the confession, but it lightens. 

“Then is this worth it?” The words are intense, heavy, weighed down with expectation.

Jaquie doesn’t answer. She knows the meaning of the words, the implication. She knows the answer Freddie wants. Freddie looks at her, expectant, crown weighing heavily on her brow.

“I don’t know,” she says, finally, and she hates the look of acceptance, of  _ knowledge _ , on the monarch’s face.

“You’re right,” Freddie sighs. She presses her lips together, takes a breath. “I have a meeting in five minutes with the chancellor of some neighbouring province or another.”

“I think you should probably know more than that before you go in there,” Jaquie teases.

Freddie’s nose scrunches, and Jaquie presses a kiss to it impulsively.

“Go,” she prompts. The redheaded ruler kisses the corner of her mouth quickly.

“Alright, alright,” she says. “I’ll see you later?”

Jaquie smiles and watches her go, and pretends her heart doesn’t ache to do so.

The girls survive on all the moments they can gather together, meagre offerings of a second here and a smile there and an hour of escape that will have consequences later. The garden is a dear favourite, towering bushes concealing them from prying eyes, from the politics and do’s and don’ts of their situation.

Freddie asks her in the garden one day, uncharacteristically timid, words falling out in a rush, if she’d like to go to the winter ball with her,  _ as in  _ **_with_ ** _ , not as a companion or a friend _ , and Jaquie’s tongue freezes.

“Yes,” she says, and takes in a sharp breath at the same time as the girl next to her, because neither of them had expected that answer. She holds it for a moment, lets it out. “But you know why we can’t.”

Freddie scowls. “I rule this land,” she huffs. “I should be able to marry whomever I choose, regardless of station.”

Jaquie swallows and turns away. “I wish that were true,” she says. “But you have to wed someone in line for a throne. I’m only going to inherit a province. No one would let us.”

“Sometimes,” sighs Freddie. “I wish you were a little less truthful.”

Sometimes Jaquie wishes she was, too. “Only for you,” she says, tender and teasing. “You love me for it.”

“Oh, are you certain?” Freddie asks, eyes glinting playfully. “I could be desperately in love with advisor ratface. You could just be my consolation.”

Jaquie tries to act shocked, really, but the humour of the situation escapes her in a bubble of laughter.

“Well, then,” she says, mock-serious. “I suppose I’ll just have to live on, heartbroken.”

Freddie laughs, and grips her hand softly, and, for a moment, Jaquie forgets that this cannot last.

Jaquie attends the ball alone, and spends half the night watching Freddie from across the room. The redhead forces natural-looking smiles onto her lips and mingles with visiting royalty with something like ease, but, when she disappears between two dances, Jaquie follows.

They find a quiet moment in an alcove away from prying eyes, and Freddie places her head on Jaquie’s collar and closes her eyes. Jaquie can feel her eyelashes fluttering on her collarbone.

“You have to go out there sometime,” she murmurs into her ear. “Find a spouse.”

Freddie groans. “I don’t want a spouse,” she says. “I want  _ you _ .”

Jaquie swallows. “Come on, now,” she chides, false happiness colouring her tone. “Prince Kit looked fun to be around. Queen Meg would be sure to keep you entertained. The—”

“Please,” says Freddie, arms tightening around Jaquie’s waist. “Just—let’s not be us for a moment. Let’s be two anonymous party-goers, ridiculously in love.”

“Freds…” Jaquie whispers, breath catching painfully. “You know why we can’t.”

“I don’t  _ want _ to be Queen Winifred,” Freddie states firmly, an odd flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “I don’t want to do any of that right now.”

Jaquie blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “Just for a moment?”

Freddie smiles, soft and aching. “Dance with me?” she asks.

“Okay.”

They sway to the weak strains of music floating into the room, form and posture forgotten, just two girls taking a moment away from a ball, ridiculously in love. Jaquie presses her nose into Freddie’s perfectly coiffed hair and breathes deeply. In another world, this could be them.

“Jaquie?” Freddie asks, after a few moment of bittersweet bliss. “Is this worth it?”

Jaquie screws her eyes shut, throat aching.  _ Two anonymous party-goers, ridiculously in love _ , Freddie had said. In another world, it would be. But this is not another world; this is a world in which Jaquie is just a noblewoman and Freddie must marry a royal, in which their love is confined to secret alcoves and stolen moments, in which the end is inevitable. She looks at the girl she loves.

Freddie’s arms tighten around her, and they sway to a stop. The monarch’s chest shudders, just a little, but she meets Jaquie’s eyes steadily.

“Yes,” Jaquie says, too late, and the lie is bitter on her tongue. Freddie presses her face into Jaquie’s neck. “Of course it’s worth it. It won’t always be like this, either.”

“We’ll get married and reign side by side,” Freddie continues, voice muffled in Jaquie’s collar. “No one can tell us what to do.”

Jaquie forces a smile. “Yeah,” she agrees, and it’s the second time she’s lied that night, and it’s no less difficult. She tells a truth, to soften it, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” says Freddie, and the words are infinitely sorrowful.  _ I love you _ means  _ I’ll miss you _ and  _ I’m sorry _ and  _ I wish it were different _ .  _ I love you _ means  _ this won’t last _ .

To them, a queen and a noblewoman loving on stolen time,  _ I love you _ means  _ goodbye. _


End file.
